


Cesena - 1502

by nflamboyant



Category: Artists RPF, Assassin's Creed, Historical RPF, Leonardo (TV), The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Romance, Historical slash, M/M, Male Slash, RPS - Freeform, Romance, artist slash, renaissance slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nflamboyant/pseuds/nflamboyant
Summary: Leonardo da Vinci asks his patron for additional funds to complete a project. The price? To allow his patron use of his young assistant for one night.





	

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a graphic non-consensual scene which may upset some readers, but is essential to the plot. Please do not read if there is a chance this will affect you negatively.   
Cesena: 1502

The bread and wine had been set on the long table in front of the two men. The main course was still to come. Brown eyes met blue across the space as the older man pressed the goblet to his lips, his hand trembling slightly. Hoping his companion hadn’t noticed, he returned the drink to the table and forced himself to take a deep breath. The air was muggy and he felt the cloth of his shirt clinging to his back. 

“Cesena is so pleasant at this time of the year.” The younger man said in between mouthfuls of bread. “And the wine is especially sweet in this region…don’t you find?” 

“I do.” The older man took another sip from the goblet to agree with the point. He found the low fuzz which was beginning to fill his mind a relief, although his body was still tense and uncomfortable. 

“And now I have this wonderful map of yours, I can explore my territory and truly make the most of this wonderful capital. I shall have to have a wine named after you...something full bodied and thoughtful.” 

The other man did not reply, and instead found himself gazing out of the window behind his companion. The sun had begun to set over the low hills and the sky was turning a deep crimson in the distance. A rattling of dishes announced the arrival of the main course and he relaxed a little as two young men set the table with the meat and fish platters, bowing slightly to the other gentlemen as they left. He reached across the table to one of the silver plates and helped himself to some grapes, picking them off the stem one by one as the other man ate the red bloodied meat directly from the bone. 

“I have to say…” the younger man announced, in-between mouthfuls “I was sorry to hear about your bronze horse. It’s just tragic…the French have no taste.” 

“That is okay.” He plucked off another grape. “It was becoming quite the challenge. I was worried that it would never be finished.” 

“Nonsense, Leonardo.” As the man spoke, a line of blood slowly trickled its way down his chin and the artist felt himself shiver. “You have not let me down yet and the truth is it is uncommon for me to accept a request to dine with an employee. Consider yourself lucky.” Leonardo trembled once again, although he could not place the source of his unease. 

“I do Sir. It has been a great pleasure to share your company.” Leonardo reached once again for the platter and drew back a handful of tomatoes. They felt cool in his hand. 

“Good. And please, call me Cesare. Sir turns my mind to that awful name they are calling me in Tuscany…Duke Valentino…they make it sound as though the rivers of Cesena are running red with the blood of my victims.”

Leonardo noted the blood on his companion’s chin and tried to compose his racing mind. “I do not pay attention to gossip.” He lied, pushing the uneaten tomatoes to one side of his plate, his appetite gone for the moment. 

“That is what I like about you Leonardo…” He smiled coldly across the table. “You exist in your own little world…full of maps and parchment and ink. Not to mention that servant you keep in your company…beautiful, is he not?”

Leonardo felt himself tense up once again and this time he was sure that Cesare Borgia had noticed. The younger man watched him carefully across the space, a smile playing closely on his bloodied lips. 

“Yes.” He cleared his throat a little. “I suppose he is.”

Cesare raised one eyebrow for a moment, before dropping his head to return to his food, unaffected. “Now tell me, because I know you requested my company for a reason, what is it that you want from me?” He asked, once again filling his mouth with slaughter. 

Leonardo took a deep breath and raised his head to meet the other’s eyes across the table. He could feel his pulse quickening beneath his fingertips; he was not usually so nervous in front of his patrons, but that name kept rising to the forefront of his mind: Duke Valentino. “I only wish to stay in your presence a little longer…to complete my work.” 

Cesare gave a full bodied laugh that seemed without an ounce of humour and placed his goblet on the table a little too heavy-handedly, making the artist flinch a little in his seat. “You want money Leonardo…just say it. I won’t chastise you. If I am honest, you are perhaps the best craftsman I have had in my money and you naturally want a raise…I understand.”

Leonardo shook his head, his eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of him. “It is not that Sir. I have working on something…a project if you will, on the nature of flight within birds. Only, it has quickly become rather costly. I know that it is not what I am paid to do, but I feel that the outcomes of this project may have military benefits if I am able to continue my work.”

“How much do you need?” 

“Just enough to allow for the project to continue…an extra twenty percent on my salary should be enough.”

Cesare was silent as he looked the older man over. Leonardo felt that he would never speak when he finally said “I will give you your twenty percent.” Leonardo finally let out the stream of breath he had been holding in. “Like I said, I like you, and if you say this project will have benefits, then I believe you. I will have my assistant give you the money by the end of the week. There is just once thing I want from you in return…” 

Leonardo felt the relief spread over his limbs as he relaxed into the chair. “Anything Sir…”

“I want you to lend me the boy…Gian…just for tonight.” Leonardo froze, his heart dropping into his stomach.

“No.” He whispered suddenly to himself, too quietly for the other man to hear. He must have given something away; perhaps he had turned a shade paler, as the other man raised his eyebrow once again. 

“That wouldn’t inconvenience you too much would it Leonardo? After all, he is just a servant…he is of no relation to you is he?” The artist was sure he detected a smile playing on his lips as he met his gaze. 

“No.” He cleared his throat. “No, he is not.”

“Good.” Cesare beamed, lifting the goblet to his lips and finishing the drink in one long gulp. “Then it is settled. You shall have your raise, and I shall have the boy. Have him come to my chambers in one hour. I shall be anticipating his arrival. You may leave.” 

Leonardo stood up slowly and gathered his cape from the wooden stand near the other man’s chair. He once again took a deep breath and felt himself shiver. “You won’t…you won’t hurt him will you?” He asked quietly. 

Cesare turned upwards to look at him, the grin on his lips more obvious from this distance. “Now why would I do that?” 

***

Leonardo slammed open the wooden doors to his chamber and, without looking around the room, grabbed the old book lying open on his desk and threw it on the bed. 

“We have to leave.” He said to the figure whose long brown ringlets were cascading down the back of the armchair in the corner. “We have to pack everything, and quickly!” 

The young man rose from the chair; dark shadows engulfed his nude olive skin in the low flicker of the firelight, his hair parted over his shoulders and resting on his bare chest. “What are you talking about?” A smile played on his lips as he approached the older man who was frantically throwing a pile of garments onto the bed, crumpling the scarlet velvet bedsheets. 

“Get dressed Salai, we have to go.” He bent down to recover a book of poems which had been discarded, half shielded under the large bed. 

Gian ignored his pleas and wrapped his arms around Leonardo’s shoulders as he rose, holding him still. “How did the meeting with Valentino go? Did you get the money?” 

Leonardo sighed as he threw the book, half-heartedly onto the edge of the bed, he could not meet the younger man’s eye as he trembled. “Yes.” His voice broke. “He agreed on the twenty percent.” 

Gian grinned. “Well that’s great. I don’t know what you’re worried about.” He pressed his lips to the other man’s cheek and moved his naked body closer to the cloaked figure. Leonardo pulled away slowly and held the youth at arm’s length. 

“You don’t understand.” He felt his eyes swell with water as his face crumpled in shame. “I have done something terrible my boy.” Gian removed himself from the other man’s grasp slowly, his brow lowering.

“What have you done?”

Leonardo shook his head; the tears falling freely now down his cheeks. “You will never forgive me.”

“What have you done?” Gian repeated his voice a little louder as he felt the fear radiating from the other man. 

“He agreed to fund my project on the condition that you go to him tonight.”

“Me?” Gian shivered as though his body had been covered in ice, despite the warm fire crackling in the grate behind him. 

“Yes.” Leonardo averted his gaze to the wooden floor, half expecting the youth to hit him, or worse. 

“Oh.” He looked at the older man with dark brown eyes across the dim room as he stepped backwards, unsure of what to do. He remained silent for a moment, until the other man spoke, stepping towards him desperately. “You don’t have to go. We can leave now…we still have time. Pack your things…we can go to Tuscany and forget everything. I was not thinking clearly when I agreed…”

“You agreed?” 

“I had to.” He felt his eyes itch. “I’m scared of him Gian; I should have never agreed to work for him and now I have put us both in danger.” He wiped his cheeks and sniffled loudly. “But do not worry, there is a coachman who can help us in the stables, he will not ask questions if we leave.” He grabbed the youth’s cheeks in both hands and kissed his lips firmly. “There is a guild in Florence who will be happy to accept me as a member. We can build our workshop; there are plenty of young craftsmen there looking for an apprenticeship, and Borgia will not follow us there. I am so sorry.” He kissed him once again but Gian did not return it, his body still. He slowly walked away from the older man and picked up a white shirt which had been discarded on the armchair and got dressed, his limbs working slowly as though they were stuck in a thick substance. 

Once fully dressed he turned to the artist. “I will go to him.” 

“No!” Leonardo said. 

“We need the money.” The youth sighed. “And with Borgia as our patron we have a steady income.” He picked up his belt and tied it around the green cloth of his hose. “I know that your project is important to you, so I will go to him, but do not expect me to be at your side tomorrow…or the next day.” He walked slowly towards the door. “And next time something like this happens, you may consider prostituting yourself out to clients, before you turn to me to use as bait.” He said coldly, before removing himself from the room, closing the door heavily behind him.

Leonardo sunk onto the bed and placed his head between his hands. “What have I done?” He whispered to the empty room. 

***

Cesare lounged backwards on the bed, his body covered in a purple velvet robe, as he pressed a goblet of wine to his lips. There was a soft knock at the door and he sat up swiftly, his lips turned upwards in a grin. 

“Enter.” He boomed. The door opened quietly and Gian entered the room, his body slouching beneath his baggy clothes and his gaze fixed on the floor. “Your master is true to his word.” Cesare placed the goblet slowly on his bedside table as he rose. “I thought I would have to go down to your chambers to retrieve you.” He walked towards the figure and gleefully noted the way in which his shoulder trembled beneath the white cloth of his shirt. He felt himself begin to stir. “Do you not speak, boy?” 

Gian raised his head to meet the other’s gaze. “I speak.” He said quietly. 

Cesare smiled. “Perhaps a little wine will loosen your tongue.” He retreated to the low wooden table beside his bed and lifted a glass decanter, pouring the crimson liquid into a spare goblet. “And hopefully it will loosen you in other ways too. Tell me…” He turned to the youth and pressed the cup into his shaking hands. “You have been in the painter’s company for some time, have you not? But I wonder…how long has he been fucking you?”

Gian did not answer, nor did he drink the wine. He felt the older man’s gaze on his clothed body, looking him up and down as though he were a caged animal in a menagerie. He felt a shudder run down his spine. 

“To make myself clear, when I ask somebody a question I expect a reply.” Cesare said, his voice echoing around the room. 

Gian cleared his throat. “A year. Perhaps a little longer.” His voice was quiet. Cesare moved closer as he circled the younger man, his eye moving south to admire the way in which his hose stretched around the soft curves of his buttocks. 

“I see.” He smiled, moving back to face the youth. “You may think me a sadist, boy. But you would be wrong.” Gian plucked up the courage to look the other man in the eye. “Whatever you may think, I am not seeking to offend or belittle your master. However, I am a proud man…I am the Pope’s son, and I simply cannot stand seeing other people owning things which I do not have.” He suddenly stepped towards Gian, taking him by surprise as he spun him around and pressed against his back, his lips moving towards his exposed neck. “You’re master can keep you.” He whispered as he grazed his lips along the flesh. “But I just want a taste.” He opened his mouth against the skin, his tongue brushing the surface as he moved the youth’s ringlets out of the way to suck and kiss at the flesh. Gian did not resist, his body felt frozen like a statue as the older man attacked his neck, his teeth grazing the flesh as he pressed his clothed erection against his arse. “Do you feel how hard I am for you?” He moved to the front of the youth and grabbed his hand, placing it firmly on his groin. “I can’t wait to feel your lips wrapped around it.”

His breath smelt of alcohol as he grabbed a handful of ringlets near the scalp and pulled the boy forcefully towards him as he kissed his lips passionately, his tongue forcing its way into his mouth. The goblet of wine fell to the floor, untouched, as the older man pulled back to rip open Gian’s shirt, the fabric tearing from the force as it joined the wine on the wooden surface. “Beautiful” Cesare whispered, bending down to lick an exposed nipple. Gian remained still, closing his eyes as felt the man’s tongue move up his body, licking along his neck and jawline before pushing it back into his accommodating mouth. 

“Right.” Cesare said, pulling away from his lips, his hands firmly placed on the boy’s shoulders. Gian felt his heart drop. “On your knees.” He ordered. Gian looked at Cesare, an expression of hurt on his face. He had known that this was coming, but he felt unprepared to comply. His heart thundered in his bare chest. 

Cesare moved his right hand from his shoulder and slapped him across the face, sending the youth’s ringlets flying backwards into the air. He looked back at the man, his eyes shining and cheek stained red with the handprint. 

“I said, on your knees. Slut.” He opened his robe with both hands, revealing his swollen stomach, covered with wiry black hairs. His erection stood proud in the open air, a thick length surrounded by a mass of curls. Gian slowly sunk to his knees, refusing to meet the older man’s gaze which he felt staring at him, until he was face to face with the erection. “Suck me.” Cesare’s voice echoed around the chamber. 

The younger man gulped as he reached his hand to grasp the base of the penis. He moved his lips towards the head and took it into his mouth, feeling himself gag as he moved slowly along the length. Cesare let out a moan of satisfaction as the youth sucked him, his cheeks concaving as he moved back and forth, quickening his speed, his head bobbing. The older man moved his hand to the back of his head, grasping his long hair as he pressed the younger man’s head to him, unable to resist the temptation to thrust into his mouth. “I knew that you would be good at this. You must have had a lot of practice.” 

Gian felt his eyes stream as he was choked by the thick length being shoved down his throat, pressing against his tonsils and making him gag. Cesare took no notice of his distress, as he picked up speed, grinding himself against into the warmth until the boy could take it no longer and pushed him away as he desperately clambered onto his feet. 

Cesare felt himself turn red, his cheeks radiating with heat as he watched the boy cower from him, walking towards the door. “You don’t get to leave just yet.” He bellowed, quickly rushing forward to grab Gian by the waist and push him down onto the bed. He clambered on top of him and pulled the younger man’s hose down in one swoop to reveal his naked arse. He felt his weight struggling beneath him as he ran his hands down the soft curve of his spine before cupping his cheeks, prying them apart to reveal his opening. He bent down to lick at the puckered skin, spitting salvia between his lips before pulling back to insert his swollen index finger. He used his other hand to pin down the youth’s hips as he wriggled beneath him, his legs kicking out uselessly as he cried out in pain. 

“Now don’t pretend that this is your first time.” Cesare muttered, inserting his middle finger to join the first. “We all know that you’re used to this by now.” He moved down to press his lips to Gian’s ear, enjoying the fragrant smell of his hair as he licked the lobe. “And it’s not just the artist who does this to you, is it? I hear you are quite the regular at the whore-house in town. I wonder…who do you let fuck you for the right price? It’s a wonder you are so tight…” He straightened himself once more and removed his fingers, to the relief of the youth whose face was pressed firmly against the sheets, his eyes watering the fabric. 

“Let’s try to make this easier, shall we?” He used both hands to pull the boy up, forcing him to rest onto his knees, giving himself better access. He pressed his fingertips to the youth’s exposed cheek, wiping away the stream of tears before wrapping the same hand around his cock. “Don’t worry. It will be over soon. I’m close to bursting.” He pushed himself into Gian in one forceful motion, making the other man cry out and arch his back before falling flat against the sheets once again, his cheek hitting the pillow with a thump. Cesare grabbed his thin hips as he thrust himself into the boy’s warmth, the feeling the pleasure consuming his senses. The sound of his thighs slapping against fleshy cheeks echoed around the room and he turned his thoughts, briefly, to the artist, alone in his room. He reminded himself to thank him for allowing him the use of his boy, as he felt himself nearing his climax. The youth was almost silent now; only a low moan escaped his lips as his body rocked with the momentum of the thrusts being delivered to him. Cesare felt the beginnings of his orgasm spread from his cock to the rest of his body, and he quickly withdrew from the slickened hole, noticing the stain of blood on his length as he spread himself on the boy’s arse cheeks, milking the last of it with his hand and letting out a deep grunt. 

He half-collapsed on the boy’s arched back as he waited for his breath and heartbeat to slow; allowing himself to play half-heartedly with Gian’s ringlets as his chest raised and fell. Eventually, he straightened himself and moved away from the body on the bed, giving the boy once final slap on his right arse-cheek as he withdrew from the bed. He could now hear the low sobs coming from the boy’s concealed mouth, as he walked across the room to pick up a fur-lined cloak which hung on his cloak rack. He threw it onto the bed where it landed on the youth’s naked body, concealing most of his back from view. 

“The money will be with him Friday.” He muttered absently as he moved towards the bedroom door. “Tell him that I wish to see him tomorrow to discuss the impact of his project. I’m going for a bath.” He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

***

Leonardo had been unable to sleep. He had left a single candle burning in the corner of the room, and had gone to bed, waiting for the footsteps in the corridor to signal Gian’s return. Eventually, after what felt like hours, he heard the soft tapping of bare feet from outside the wooden door. It opened and a sliver of light from the corridor streamed into the room. He listened as the youth walked across the room and felt the bed move beneath his weight as he climbed into the warmth of the sheets, pulling them from around Leonardo to wrap around himself. The older man was unable to face him stayed on his side, his eyes transfixed on the whitewashed wall. Eventually, he heard the boy let out a sob and he felt the mattress tremble with his cries. Leonardo could take it no longer and he climbed out of bed, pulling the sheets from Gian’s body. He was naked except for a cloak wrapped around his torso. He noticed a small amount of blood staining the bedsheets. 

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” Leonardo did not wait for a reply as he paced across the room and re-lit three candles. “Pack your things now, we cannot wait for dawn, I will not sleep in this place a night longer.”

Gian slowly rose from the bed, his cheeks glistening in the candlelight. “Where will we go?”

Leonardo turned to face him and felt his heart ache at the sight of him. “Florence, like I said.” 

They packed everything they owned into their suitcases and Gian slowly dressed in clean clothes from the cupboard, his movements slow and laboured as his body ached with pain. Finally, he discarded the cloak into the trunk, closing the metal clasps and placing it with the others by the door. It was dark outside as they fled the palace. Leonardo had been right about the coachman, and within the hour, they had crossed the border as they rode on into the dawn.


End file.
